


Just For Tonight

by renneroo



Category: Welcome to Sanditon
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renneroo/pseuds/renneroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just for the night, it didn't matter that Ed had been a one-man sit in at Sanditon Scoops, and it didn't matter that Clara really needed to be up at 5 AM. Not when there was enthralling conversation and British sci-fi to be had. A one-shot look at what might've happened after the Domino call shown in Glitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just For Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a far more intricate Edward/Clara fic, which I am holding off on posting because I want to do some tweaking after today's majorly shippery episode. This isn't my favorite thing ever, but I wanted something for what happened in the aftermath of that two hour conversation and a closer look at these characters. Drop me a line and let me know what you think! There will be some more Edward/Clara things to come for sure.

Ed’s fingers rapped against the edge of the table as he sat in a dark Sanditon Scoops waiting for Clara to come down the stairs in the corner, the screen frozen in front of him illuminating his little corner of the shop. His foot tapped against the leg of the table in way that wasn’t quite in sync with the rhythm of his fingers on the table. He looked at the clock and wondered how it was possible that they’d been talking for going on two and a half hours. He also supposed, though, that he had never pegged Clara Breton as one to talk, much less care at all, about any of the multitude of nerdy things he liked.

They’d spent so much of the previous week bickering and passive aggressively glaring at each other that he wondered why he was sitting in the dark waiting for her to watch Day of the Triffids, but for whatever reason, it didn’t bother him.

He heard the light thumps of feet on stairs and looked up to see Clara’s silhouette in the dark approaching him. She grabbed a chair at the table and slid it closer to him and the screen as she sat down.

Clara bit back a smile as she saw him, still sitting right where she’d left him three hours ago with his tie and hair a little mussed. She inspected the frozen frame on the screen before whipping her head to side, looking at him, and saying “Let’s do this thing.”

The corner of Ed’s mouth quirked upward, and he hit play. He watched her watch the first few seconds and the way that she immediately became engrossed. He continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye, watching all of her reactions. She had one of the most obviously expressive faces he’d ever seen. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her in this whole ordeal. Before she had ever thrown a sugar cone, her face had flushed red with anger. Her face contorted into what seemed like the whole gamut of facial expressions during the first ten minutes of the episode.

* * *

 

Ed wondered if, in the middle of the emotional turmoil that Day of the Triffids seemed to inspire in her, Clara noticed him leaning closer to her with her shoulder almost touching the sleeve of his rough, crisp button down that underneath the vest and tie felt a little too caging.

She did. She noticed him squirm, and it took some will power to hold in a chuckle and focus on the show. She knew Edward Denham, and as puffed up as he could act sometimes, she saw him and knew exactly, perfectly who he was, even in his attempts to get a little closer. With this Ed Denham, she wasn’t sure she minded at all.

He had dropped “official mayor’s assistant” act, and out came the pop culture enthusiast, the guy with the occasional stutter in his speech, and the one who had plain honesty instead of the myth he wore day in and day out. Here was the one who, despite having talked animatedly with her for going on two hours about every aspect of this miniseries with her, had brushed off asking her to finish it with him as a stupid idea because of nagging insecurity. She wondered as the minutes wound down nearing the end credits how this would end when after three hours, it seemed like everything had changed.

The person she was sitting next to wasn’t the same one who had walked into her shop that morning. She wouldn’t have spent three hours talking about everything and nothing with him, but she had to admit that after all that time talking and watching an obscure British miniseries, she felt content. It was even stranger that it came from the same person who had been at the root of so much of her recent frustration, but as the credits started rolling, she realized that it really wasn’t the same person. Ed didn’t appear to care so much about her shop becoming a juice bar as he did interpreting the symbolism prevalent in Day of the Triffids and its continuing relevance in modern pop culture. For once, he seemed so alive and excited about something.

It was a version of Ed she hadn’t seen before. He always seemed as though he never really cared about anything, but her one question had turned into two hours of conversation and bouncing ideas off of each other and the sort of conversation that doesn’t happen between people who were adversaries or acquaintances.

* * *

 

Ed looked at her expectantly, wondering exactly what she would say about the show. He had to hope that he had converted someone. It was hard to get people into things like this, especially in Sanditon of all places. Few people shared his interests. It was just one more thing that seemed to set him on the outside. 

He cleared his throat before he asked, “So what did you think?”

Clara bit her bottom lip, her mind obviously working to quickly form an opinion on what she had just seen. “You know, it was different, but it was good. A little on the misogynist side which I’ll excuse because of its age, but good. I’ll have to read the book sometime.”

Ed’s face lit up again. “I have a copy that you can borrow. It’s really not that long, and it’s a really great read.”

Clara could tell that this had the potential to take off all over again, so she cut him off right there. “Yeah, I’d love to borrow it from you.” She glanced at the clock on the corner of his laptop screen. “It’s really, really late, and 5 AM is gonna come way to soon for me so I really need to head for bed. Goodnight, Ed. Tonight was…fun.”

Still sitting next to him, Clara lightly grasped his shoulder, and pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth. It was light enough to be considered simply friendly, but Ed went rigid, with the exception of his jaw dropping as Clara pulled away. She quickly sprung up from her seat and started padding towards the staircase with her bare feet, biting back a laugh at the fish-like expression she had left on Ed’s face. Ed collected himself, at least a little, and then began collecting his things from the table.

He tripped over his words as he said farewell to her from across the shop, “Yeah, goodnight. I guess, well, I mean, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ed had absolutely no clue what coming in the next morning would be like, but he was quite positive that he was ultimately completely befuddled.

They both considered that perhaps the best thing Domino had allowed since coming to Sanditon was the opportunity to go back to that conversation.


End file.
